


Martha's Training Terror

by Director_DZ



Category: Fate/Grand Order, fate - Fandom
Genre: Brain Drain - Freeform, F/F, Hypnosis, Mind Control, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Director_DZ/pseuds/Director_DZ
Summary: Even a Saint's patience has it's limits - as a few servants looking to learn some of Martha's forbidden arts discover. It's fine though - they wanted training, didn't they?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Martha's Training Terror

“No, no, I couldn’t possibly…” Martha smiled politely, her staff bobbing as if in apology. “Those arts were entrusted to me in his divine name, and I could never pass them on without his blessing. I'm sorry, but if it were meant to be, then it would be, you see?"

"Hm. Are you sure there is no way I can convince you? Learning your style would make it much less likely that I would be killed in a fight…” Scheherazade pleaded in her ever-soft voice, her white veil fluttering gently as a breeze stirred through the Chaldean corridor. But she could see it was a losing battle. “Alas. It seems I shall just have to keep looking for a teacher…”

“You are sure you will not change your mind?” The King of Knights was more persistent, though as graceful as ever. She had her arms folded, still trying to think of a way she could convince the woman. “The strength I’ve seen in your blows would be a great boon to me, even if it might cost me some… grace.”

Martha’s eyebrow twitched.

But it was the third of the trio that had found her who really refused to take a hint. “Eh. I mean it’s not like it’s all that impressive anyway.” The Saint of Orleans was a darling, a credit to all saints everywhere, and one of Martha’s closest friends in Chaldea. Her dark half was a total bitch though. The Blackened false saint leaned right into her face and smirked, her hands stuffed in her pockets to bunch her form up even more. “We all know Miss prim and proper isn’t all that. I bet she made that punching out the Tarasque thing up just to look good to that stupid teacher of hers.”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. “Stupid… teacher?”

“You heard me.” Jalter grinned, dark flames dancing between her teeth as she drew on her authority as the dragon witch. “I’ve seen that big lizard of yours. You call that a dragon? I’ve seen tougher looking newts.” She sniffed loudly and turned to stride off. “I bet you didn’t fight that thing, you just yelled at it until-Glurk!”

The glurk had not been planned, but it was an unavoidable consequence of Martha wrapping her arm around the dark antiheroine’s throat and yanking her backwards. “Oh right?” She said, her saintly serenity shattering. “Ya’ wanna see what I did with Tarasque, do ya? Well why didn’t y’say so?”

“Glurble…!” Jalter tried to speak, but all that came out were breathless gasps.

“Ah, now, I’m sure she didn’t…” Arturia raised a hand to try and calm the saint, grimacing as she saw the look in her eye. She knew this Martha – knew her well, in fact. Their time trapped on that summer island would never be forgotten. They were dealing with a very dangerous woman here.

“And you!” The king almost jumped as the purple haired grappler’s gaze shot up to her. “You wanted to be stronger, right? Even if it’ll cost ya’ a little grace? Huh? And you!”

Scheherazade had been trying to sneak away, and she really did jump as Martha’s eyes fell upon her. “M-me? Oh, no, I, ah…”

“YOU NEED MORE CONFIDENCE!” The saint roared, and then released her captive, shoving her hard into the other two and throwing them into a heap. “Right! That’s it!” Grinning, the holy woman stepped forward, towering over the three trembling heroes, one fist punching her palm. “You want training? I’m gunna train each and every one of ya’.”

Three screams echoed through Chaldea.

-

The doors of the training simulator opened, and Martha stepped out, looking clean and refreshed. Her saintly aura was back in place, though she’d traded her white robes for her dark swimsuit, and all seemed right with the world.

Then she turned to look over her shoulder and shattered that illusion. “Well?! I’m waiting, ya’ lousy ingrates! Get out here!”

There was a rustling, followed by the crunch of sand, and then three figures emerged from the simulator behind her.

The first was dark skinned and graceful, but she moved with confidence. Purpose. Scheherazade no longer shrank and cowered – instead she stood tall and proud. Her gaze roamed the halls, but it didn’t search for threats. No, her eyes hunted for something to quench a more primal hunger. And her outfit had changed too. Her veils and jewels were gone – and in their place, a pair of hot pants so tight they looked fit to burst with every step, and a leopard print tube top that pushed her somehow larger breasts up and almost forced them to pop out with every bounce. Her skin shone with an oily sheen; a glaze so thick that you could see your face reflected in it.

“Hey, Boss,” she said, passing Martha with almost complete irreverence. “Thanks for the training, but I’m itching for a dicking. I’m going to go find some cock to ride – gotta be quick to beat that pink haired bitch.”

“Sure, sure,” the Saint laughed, smacking her whore as she walked past and eyeing the jiggle. “Just make sure you bring any QP you earn back to me, y’hear?”

Yep. Much better. That girl had all the confidence in the world now – and enough thirst to fully change her class all the way to berserker, too! Martha was an old-fashioned gal at heart – and watching the former coward strut and shake her ass like a fucking metronome, she knew she’d done a good job. 

Of course, the other two had been different problems. The second figure emerged from the training room. This one was dressed differently too – her blue and silver armour exchanged for her white and modest swimsuit… But it didn’t look so modest anymore. No, the petite Saber Arturia had grown over the course of her three-hour training session, both in height, and, in a few rather specific places, girth. She would easily be confused with her Lancer counterpart now, save for two important differences. One, her muscles, which had bulked up greatly over the course of her stay in the simulation, giving her the look of a powerful body builder. And two, the dim, perhaps even vacant look in her eyes, which remained entirely fixed upon Martha.

“Duh, thanks Boss!” Came her deeper, husky voice, entirely unburdened by extraneous or taxing thought. “I feel super tough now!”

“Yeah yeah, shut yer pie hole. I pay ya’ to look tough and punch things, understand?” Technically Martha paid her to do neither, but she knew the new and improved Saber didn’t have the braincells to realise that. Trading the woman’s intelligence score for the boost to strength that she’d so desperately wanted just kept paying for itself!

“Oh right! Sorry Boss!” Nodding, the muscled moron smiled and stood next to the Saint, waiting for the order to smash or… Well, whatever the Boss wanted, really. Saber wasn’t going to think to hard about it – or about anything, come to that.

But then came the third figure. She too had been changed by her experiences, and it showed. For one, she wasn’t wearing a single scrap of clothing, short of a tight leather collar that was closed tight around her neck. She didn’t speak – simply walking quietly behind the Saint, and quietly purring when the purple haired woman reached back to stroke her head.

“Who’s a good girl? Hm? That’s right! It’s you – now, at least.” Martha laughed. “Who’da thought you’da gotten this cute after ya’ learned your place, huh?”

Jalter didn’t say anything, of course – it wasn’t a pet’s place to speak. She simply followed the woman who held her leash, quiet and demure – until the moment her Master ordered the attack. Then just like the Tarasque, she’d rise up to annihilate those who opposed her owner! But certainly, she had no will of her own with which to do otherwise.

“Heh.” And the Saint grinned, stalking down the halls of Chaldea, flanked on either side by her well trained toadies. “Y’know, I’d forgotten how much fun it is to kick you slackers into shape… Maybe there are a few more layabouts around here that could do with a bit of training…”

United behind their saintly Boss, the delinquent gang would soon be growing bigger and bigger. Thus, began a new training regime for the servants of Chaldea…

Well, it’d probably be okay. Martha would never do anything really bad with that kind of power. Right? … Right?


End file.
